


of sparkles and hair flips

by phloridas



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, M/M, and i couldn't not write about them, because these photos ruined us all, but it's vv light, hurt/comfort elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 10:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14307153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phloridas/pseuds/phloridas
Summary: @danielhowell:me arriving at your funeral@AmazingPhil:My forehead feels a bit chillyOr, the story behind two photos that broke the phandom (and the moments that Dan and Phil wouldn't trade for the world).





	of sparkles and hair flips

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to @lilacskylester for betaing this!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

“Wh--”

_Whoa_ doesn’t begin to cover Dan’s feelings upon seeing this lift. Not even the golden doors could have prepared him for the beauty that lay within.

Spirals of wood, shinier than the sequins on his jacket, and a full-length mirror greet him and Phil as they step onto plush blue carpet. The slightly domed ceiling rises far above both their heads, a feat that pulls Dan’s lips into a grateful smile.

After the week they’ve had, it’s a miracle his brain has enough happy chemicals buzzing around to provide this feeling at all.

It occurs to him why this place is called _the Palace Theatre._

“Dan, oh my-- _Dan._ ” Phil’s gasp, soft as it is, gives Dan a start. He’d forgotten he was there. “Your jacket is stunning under this light. You’re stunning. Can I take a picture, please?”

A pillow settles inside Dan’s chest and it’s all he can do to breathe deep enough around it. He can feel Phil’s eyes searching him as he tugs the sleeve of his jacket and rubs his thumb along the expensive sequins. _Him, stunning_? He sure as hell doesn’t feel it.

They’ve been stopped on the ground level for a few seconds and far away, there’s a raucous peal of laughter and nails getting drilled into wood. Part of Dan wants to push the button to open the doors again and he almost reaches a finger out, preparing his most authentic apologetic smile.

Then he recalls the enchantment he felt upon entering, how it pushed the worries of the day out of his mind and far away from him for the most glorious of seconds. He tears his eyes away from the wall and nearly dissolves into giggles upon glimpsing Phil’s puppy dog eyes.

He slides his phone from his pocket.

“Alright. But you’re using my camera.”

Phil’s joy is almost contagious.

There’s a pause, a moment of uncertainty where Dan flicks his eyes to the doors perhaps one too many times, his hands and gut clenching at every distant footstep and snatch of conversation outside. They shouldn’t even be here to begin with. What if someone else needed this lift? What if they missed the tube, and the next one wouldn’t come for ages? Dan’s been here for five and a half years, why the _fuck_ didn’t he have the tube schedule memorised?

“Dan? You ready?” It’s a gentle question, but Phil’s eyes are heavy with concern. Something pulls Dan’s back ramrod straight, though, tugs his teeth away from his lip. _Deep breaths. There’s nothing but you and Phil right now. Nothing in the world._

A sea of unamused faces swims before him, but Dan shoves it away with a strength he didn’t even know he had.

_Someone, somewhere is gonna love this show. Even if someone else doesn’t get it. You’ve worked way too fucking hard for this._

He turns this way and that, focused on the large round light above them and how his sparkles reflect off of it. Maybe they can illuminate his face too. Goodness knows he could use it after this ridiculous winter.

He settles on throwing Phil his better side, smoothing and fidgeting with his jacket and the grey shirt underneath. Is his hair sitting right?

“Back straight, Dan. You own this lift. And keep your hand on your jacket, it gives you a really nice silhouette.”

Dan blushes, a true smile cracking across his face for the first time in what feels like hours. Sure enough, just standing tall parts a few of the clouds that never seem to leave his head these days. It’s a miracle.

He turns his head, wiping his face of all emotion besides deep, despairing concentration. Phil’s sharp intake of breath rocks through the entire lift.

“ _Perfect,_ ” Phil murmurs. Something glows deep in Dan’s chest. It’s not enough to break through the tightness, but it helps.

Even Dan has to admit that Phil’s photos are breathtaking. And that’s before any editing. That camera is a godsend.

Dan’s messed around with selfie mode before, but never in a space with such perfect lighting as this. He snaps a few unassuming photos, adjusting effects here and there, then…

Is that an actual _contour_ on his jaw? On an underchin shot, no less?

Screw Phil, Dan’s marrying this effect designer.

Speaking of…

“Jesus _christ_ , Dan. If we didn’t have a damn tube to catch…”

The suggestion dripping from Phil’s voice is almost enough to wreck Dan right there. He sucks in a breath in an attempt to stem the growing tightness in his jeans.

“Rain check?” Dan peers up at Phil beneath his eyelashes, a sudden crash from deep in the theatre turning him shy again.

“Only if you’re wearing that jacket.” Phil bumps their sides together, twisting his fingers amongst Dan’s and squeezing for just a second before grinning with a kind of giddiness Dan didn’t think was possible, even for Phil.

It sparks something in Dan. Something like glorious spring sunshine on his face, but better. So much better.

Those clouds may hover at the edges wherever he goes. That’s never going to change.

But maybe, with Phil at his side, he can greet this tour with his head held high and only the best kinds of butterflies in his stomach.

 

**

It’s funny how Phil can get so sick of cameras when his job is literally _talking to them._

Maybe he smacked Dan’s hand a little too hard when his fingers started creeping towards Phil’s phone. But can Dan really blame him?

They’re both so damn exhausted. And it’s not like the next six months are gonna be any easier.

Dan pushes the fringe off Phil’s forehead with the softest of touches, letting his fingers linger near Phil’s ear for a second. Phil stiffens. He darts his eyes all around but the photographers are busy packing up their tripods. Even Marianne’s gaze is trained on a stack of papers she’s tapping a pen against.

Alright, maybe Phil can melt into his touch. But just a little.

“Fucking hell, Phil. Have I told you how much I love your quiff this week?”

“Mmm, have you? I can’t seem to remember,” Phil giggles. Dan rolls his eyes and Phil quirks his eyebrows in response. It’s all he can do not to reach out and take Dan’s hand in both of his. Phil’s always taken so much joy in seeing Dan’s eyes shining like this.

It’s even better when _he’s_ the cause of it.

He bumps their shoulders together, praying nobody notices. It’s stupid, how he can’t always scream his love for Dan from the rooftops. How he has to watch his every action around everyone besides their closest friends and family. But it would be a thousand times worse if the entire world had their say on this.

Besides, nobody needs to know, do they? These moments, the ones where the conversation flows through shared glances and gentle touches—these are all theirs. Who could begin to understand?

Dan’s gaze has dropped to Phil’s phone again. Something pulls at Phil’s heart. Maybe they have been posing all day, and maybe Phil is exhausted.

But maybe he can make an exception. Just this once.

“You want a photo? Something to remember this fleeting moment by?” Phil asks softly.

“I think the _world_ needs to remember this moment.”

Phil’s stomach clenches for a second. But then he catches hold of Dan’s gaze, wide and pleading and only for Phil and, well...he can’t say no to that bitten-back smile, can he?

“Al _right._ But if I have to do any dumb poses, I swear to god, Howell…”

“Now why would I make you do that?” Dan’s entire face is twinkling and _lord,_ is it beautiful. There’s a laugh bubbling up and up, pushing at the edges of Phil’s lips and cutting into his cheeks. If it was any other time, he’d let it tumble out, allow the room to fill with his happiness. But he can’t bring himself to burst this happy little bubble of himself, Dan, a couple of squishy grey benches, and a light blue backdrop.

A few giggles trickle out anyway. Damn that lovely creature.

Dan pulls his bench to face Phil, picking it up and setting it back down gently to keep from screeching against the tile. _Does he feel this sacred little bubble encasing them, too?_ Phil straightens his back and throws out his best smile.

Or what he hopes is his best smile.

“Natural smile, b--” Dan quickly scans the giant room, then lowers his voice. “Relax your face muscles... _There_ we go.”

How did Dan manage to look so aloof and...godlike in his photos? Is Phil holding himself right? He doesn’t have any tension in his face, does he? God, why did he think this was a good idea to begin with? Especially after the week--hell, after the _month_ they’ve had.

Astoundingly, though, Dan turns Phil’s phone back to him after just a few posture changes. That massive grin’s gotta be good news, right?

“ _Dan._ Jesus christ, I...I actually look good. How did you do that?”

Dan tucks his chin to his chest. “Portrait mode is your new best friend. Well--” he bites his lip, “ _second_ best friend.”

Phil rolls his eyes, his stomach snapping and popping with possibility. Pretty soon, the world will be introduced to a quiffed Phil. A _permanently_ quiffed Phil.

A new tour. A new Phil. (A new house, soon.) But always with the same old Dan beside him, through it all.

Phil can’t think of a better--if delayed--start to their 2018.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/phloridas) and [Tumblr](http://phloridas.tumblr.com) @phloridas! And thank you so much for reading!


End file.
